


Outsider

by Edlinklover



Series: Spirit Unraveler Vocaloid AU [1]
Category: Original Work, Vocaloid
Genre: Past life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edlinklover/pseuds/Edlinklover
Summary: [Prototype story] Saying you hang around graveyards all day isn't a great conversation starter. A lot of bad things come with being able to see spirits, but so can some good. Today, too, Hiroaki spends its morning at the graveyard.
Series: Spirit Unraveler Vocaloid AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1339849
Kudos: 4





	Outsider

**Author's Note:**

> This is vaguely VAGUELY part of my Vocaloid AU (my Spirit Unraveler AU, actually!) Specifically, this is supposed to be my headcanon of Fukase before it died, although it's more accurate to say Hiroaki is a past life. They do physically look pretty much like recolored versions of each other, but there are meant to be subtle differences in their personality!
> 
> I didn't realize that AO3 would accept works like this that straddle the line between original and canonish works so yay!
> 
> This is somewhat of a prototype story. Hiroaki lives in the Meiji era. However, because I wanted to focus more on its interactions and personality, I disregarded that for the most part. Information provided in this story should be taken with a grain of salt, as things might shift as I develop it and its world.
> 
> Additionally, Hiroaki is nonbinary and goes by it/its pronouns.

Hiroaki opens its eyes to the pale ceiling of the living room. It’s around 4 A.M., but the beginnings of sunlight are already filtering through the _shoji_. Birds chatter outside, and Mother doesn’t stir, breathing quietly in the futon beside it.

Sitting up, it yawns, blinking a few times. As much as it wants to lay back down, it drags its body out from under the covers and rummages through the dresser. By the time it finishes tying the knot of its _hakama_ , the light inside the room has grown much brighter.

I still have time before _Kaa-san_ wakes up, Hiroaki thinks with a glance toward Mother as it slips into a pair of _zouri_ at the front entrance. Carefully, it opens the sliding door and steps outside. Its heart stops when the door catches on something as it tries to close it. Hiroaki rattles it loose and it claps shut. It waits, in silence, expecting to hear Mother stirring or saying something. When nothing happens, it takes a hesitant step back and turns away.

As Hiroaki heads down the familiar pathway, it hugs itself, its eyes sweeping around its surroundings. As the walk drags on and people remain out of sight, its shoulders go slack, and its hands begin to rest at its sides. The air feels easier to breathe, and it could almost appreciate the crisp early morning air. The graveyard is in sight now, and so, it picks up the pace.

The graveyard is surrounded by grassy green hills, but the graves themselves stand as silent stone pillars reaching toward the sky, their glossy finish catching the sun. Hiroaki retrieves a bucket and a ladle from a shed by the entrance and rinses them out with a nearby water pump. As it fills the bucket with water, it feels a cold grip on its shoulder. It yelps and whirls around.

“Glad to see you come around again.”

It takes a second for Hiroaki to process the old man and his usual snaggle-toothed grin. He seems alive, but his slightly translucent form gives away the nature of his existence. It reminds Hiroaki of the way sunlight filters through _shoji_.

“Don’t scare me like that,” it frowns and continues filling the bucket. It pauses to tie its kimono sleeves back with the cord it keeps around its wrist, and then continues with its work.

The old man laughs. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just, nobody else’s got a single funny bone in their body.”

“Can’t blame them. They don’t have bodies at all anymore.”

Its tone is harsher than it expects, and the old man’s smile drops. Hiroaki almost thinks he won’t say anything, but its hopes are dashed as he opens his mouth again. “Hey, what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing.” It grunts as it takes the now-heavy bucket up, the water sloshing around. “Just tell me who left.”

“I’m not telling you nothing until you tell me what’s wrong. My eyes see through everything.”

Hiroaki frowns and puts the bucket down, some water spilling over the sides by its feet. The old man sternly frowns back.

“People are spreading around that I’m bad luck or something,” it says, finally, in a voice that sounds like it has to pry the words from its throat. “Like a demon. I was going home the other day, and these kids just threw rocks at me and said it’s because they had to keep out demons.”

“Demon?” The old man lets out a bark of laughter. “You? The kid who comes down here to clean graves and give offerings to spirits? If you ask me, that sounds holy.”

Hiroaki loosely wraps its arms around itself. “Well, I’m real careful ‘bout it, but people still notice I talk to you guys too and think that’s kinda weird. Don’t get me started on my family.”

The old man mouths an “Oh”. Hiroaki is sure it’s told him before—its older sister died of an illness, and its father passed away in a work-related accident. Its mother is still alive, but whether she’s well is questionable. Her presence is almost as feeble as a ghost, like it may fade at any moment.

“Aki—” The old man places his hand on its shoulder,” –You can’t let that get to you. You’re no demon or god of death or nothing. You’re just Aki.” Like earlier, the old man’s touch is cold, but the tone of his voice is warm. “Enough of that. I’ll tell you who left.”

The old man begins to list off a few names. The most recent one, Suzumi Hanazawa moved on just yesterday. With the bucket and ladle in hand, Hiroaki heads to each of their graves. For the past several years, it’s been a habit of its to clean and water the graves of spirits who have finally moved on. Most people only do this for deceased relatives, but despite no blood connection, Hiroaki has felt it right to do this anyway. After all, the connections it forms with spirits are just as real as the connections it forms with humans; it’s sad when they leave.

“Isn’t that funny,” the old man says, “It’s just me now.”

“No one new’s come in?” Hiroaki ladles the water over the gravestone, and the marble turns slick.

“Not to this graveyard. It was getting quiet, so I already started popping by a different one not far from here. You oughta join me one of these days.”

“If no one new comes in, I’ll think ‘bout it.”

There’s a rustle in the bushes somewhere to the left. Hiroaki freezes. The old man says nothing.

Setting the ladle back in the bucket, Hiroaki inches toward a small cluster of bushes with a large tree sprouting right at the center. The old man ghosts behind it.

Hiroaki leans forward and asks, “Is…someone there?”

For a second, there’s no movement, and Hiroaki can almost breathe again. But then, a young girl pokes her head out from behind the trunk, and Hiroaki’s stomach drops. It wants to turn away, but the old man’s calm hand on its shoulder urges it to stay its ground.

“Hi.” Its voice is almost a wheeze. “Are you lost?”

“You’re not evil, are you?” The little girl cuts right to the chase, her eyebrows knitting together as she scans it from head to toe.

Hiroaki is frozen, but the old man smacks the back of its head, and it jolts. “Of course—I mean,” it shakes its head and blinks hard, “of course not, I’m not.” It speaks as if trying to convince not only the girl, but also itself.

Whether or not it succeeded, the little girl seems satisfied and emerges from behind the tree. “You can talk to dead things, right? Did my mom pass on okay? She said in the next life, she was gonna be a butterfly and see me again, but I haven’t seen any yet.”

Hiroaki’s shoulders relax, if only a little. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Suzumi. Suzumi Hanazawa.”

Hiroaki thinks back, and the old man nudges its side. “Hey, that was one of the names I gave you, wasn’t it?”

Hiroaki nods. “Yeah, she’s moved on. There’s only one spirit left in the graveyard.”

“Oh. I hope she sees me soon, then.” The little girl’s gaze drops, and that’s when Hiroaki notices the _manjuu_ she’s clutching to her chest.

“I can take you to her grave,” it offers, “She might not be a butterfly yet, but you can still visit her.”

The girl perks up. “Right! _Manjuu_! Dad told me to bring this to her!” She bounces forward. “Take me please!”

Hiroaki motions for her to follow, and she does. It shows her how to clean her mother’s grave, how to pluck out the weeds sprouting at its base and wash down the headstone. The little girl insists on ladling the water over the grave herself, standing on her tiptoes so she can reach high enough, murmuring that she hopes Mom won’t be thirsty anymore. The old man watches from a distance, sitting on the gravestone across from them and yawning.

“People should stop being mean to you,” the little girl says when she plops the ladle back in the bucket. “My friend told me not to see Mom just because she said a creepy guy hangs around here, but you’re nice!”

“Creepy, huh.” Hiroaki can’t help frowning. The little girl looks up at it.

“I’m gonna come here and see Mom lots more! I have to go to school so I can’t keep her from being lonely, but you can since you’re here all the time!”

Hiroaki doesn’t mention that it has a life outside of graveyards, but it smiles, and it can distantly see the old man giving it a thumbs-up.

“I’ll take good care of her grave,” it tells her.

The little girl skips on home, and Hiroaki is left in the graveyard. It feels the familiar hand on its shoulder.

“You’ll be alright,” says the old man.

Hiroaki looks at him with a small grin. “Yeah, I know.”


End file.
